


Love Note(-ish)

by Hoodoo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 16:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Doofus would do anything to make a bad day better.





	Love Note(-ish)

**Author's Note:**

> For anon prompt: If you're accepting prompts, then how about one where Doofus Rick sends the reader a love note, but the reader knows its from him.
> 
> Headcanon: Doofus has a tendancy to go overboard.

Your day was garbage. 

Nothing went right: from your alarm not going off to a coffee spill on your skirt to clients not showing up on time to getting burdened with extra paperwork at the last minute to the traffic on the way home. You were done with today; you just wanted to get home, take a shower, eat crappy microwave pizza in your pyjamas and watch something brainless on Netflix. Maybe also drink a bottle or two of wine.

Grabbing the mail from the box and looking through the bills, you almost miss what’s on your sidewalk.

Actually, once you see them, you have to look closer, because at first glance it looked like large droplets of blood in the snow. 

It’s not blood, you realize thankfully. It’s individual rose petals, dropped in a line to your door.

There’s a rose tied with a ribbon on the doorknob. 

You laugh a little, thinking it’s sweet. Juggling your mail, you untie it so you can get your keys in the lock and get inside.

The knob sticks. You jiggle the key, cursing quietly, then realize it sounds like there is someone in your house. 

Freezing, you listen more closely.

It’s muffled. There are no individual words you can make out. It’s odd and slightly creepy. But you can’t stand out here all night; you’d cold and hungry. You figure whoever’s inside has to know you’re here with all the noise you made trying to get the door open.

Finally the key decides to work correctly and you carefully open the door.

The trail of rose petals continues further into the house. Cautiously, you go inside.

The sound you heard isn’t a person. It’s music; a snappy string ensemble playing chords on repeat.

“Hello?” you call.

As if that’s some trigger, the music swells and the vocalist starts.

_For once in my life I have someone who needs me_  
Someone I've needed so long  
For once unafraid I can go where life leads me  
And somehow I know I'll be strong 

Although you have no idea where the music is coming from, you recognize the song and singer—“For Once In My Life” and Harry Connick, Jr.—and a small smile crosses your face.

Setting everything down—coat and mail—and kicking off your shoes, you follow the trail of petals that leads through your house like breadcrumbs. Interspersed with them are chocolate kisses, and the occasional long-stemmed rose. Peeking down your hallway, you see a heart-shaped balloon floating in the air, tethered to the bathroom door.

The music keeps playing:

_For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of_  
Long before I knew  
Someone warm like you  
Could make my dreams come true 

No longer worried about who may be in your house, you continue to the balloon. Written on it, like you’re Alice in a more romantic Wonderland, is: 

**Open me!**

As you hold the balloon pondering the direction, you notice a ribbon with a pin on the end, also tied to the door.

Carefully, wincing in anticipation, you pop the latex.

Tiny butterflies with heart-shaped wings flutter out of the broken balloon. You gasp in delight, then a teensy bit of horror, until you realize they aren’t alive, they’re just bits of origami and tissue paper, animated by a technology you can’t fathom. They escape to the ceiling before falling like confetti.

The music keeps playing:

_For once in my life I won't let sorrow hurt me_  
Not like it's hurt me before  
For once I've got someone I know won't desert me  
I'm not alone anymore 

One butterfly is burdened by a key. You take it. It dissolves into bits of paper in your hand, like the rest, and you recognize that the key is for your bathroom door.

You fit it in the lock. The door opens much more easily than your front door.

The music keeps playing:

_For once I can say:_  
"this is mine you can't take it"  
As long as I've got love I know I can make it  
For once in my life I've got someone who needs me 

Inside, the only light is from the multitude of lit candles set up on every horizontal surface. Your tub is neck deep with a layer of bubbles so thick you can’t see the water. Fluffy towels and a bathrobe are folded in arm’s reach of the tub for you.

Delighted, you enter. You drop your clothing without care and step into the filled and perfumed bath. It’s the perfect temperature. Sighing, you sink low into it.

The music keeps playing:

_For once in my life I won't let sorrow hurt me_  
Not like it's hurt me before  
For once I've got someone I know won't desert me  
I'm not alone anymore 

Eyes closed, you let the warmth of the water start easing away the stress of the day. Near your head, barely heard under the music, there’s a sound. You open your eyes and imagine maybe you saw a hint of green, but if pressed you wouldn’t swear to it. 

There is, however a free-standing tray with a flute of sparkling wine and a plate of cheeses, figs, and dainty crackers next to the tub.

You laugh out loud. Helping yourself to a nibble, you call out, 

“Rick!”

Nothing happens.

“Rick!” 

The music keeps playing: 

_Now, for once I can say:_  
"this is mine you can't take it"  
As long as I've got love I know I can make it  
For once in my life I've got someone who needs me 

“Rick Sanchez!” 

Like in a fairy story the third time you invoke his name, he appears. A glowing portal erupts in your bathroom door, and he steps through, lanky and looking a combination of pleased with himself and slightly embarrassed.

“Hi, sweetie. How’d you know it was me?”

You give him a look of mock agitation. “You’re the only person I know who’d do something this elaborate.”

“You liked it?” he asks nervously. Any time he does something a little out of the norm, something extra ordinary, he gets nervous. You want to wipe away any previous bad memories he has of being derided for it. “You texted me about your bad day; I just wanted to do something nice—“

“It’s almost perfect, Rick,” you interrupt.

His sweet face falls. “Almost perfect . . .?”

“The roses, the balloon—those tiny paper butterflies! This bath, and much better food than what I was going to eat? It’s pretty good,” you inform him. “But . . .”

He can’t help but wring his hands. You can’t keep up the charade, you love him too much.

“But the one thing that would make it absolutely perfect is for you to join me in this bath.”

He lets a breath out you’re pretty sure he didn’t know he was holding. A giant smile breaks over his face, and hurriedly he drops his clothes on top of yours and scrambles into the tub with you. He slips behind you so you can lay back against him. The water sloshes over the edge, and nobody cares. You’re both covered in bubbles; you snack on the plate he’s prepared and relax in the warmth and company.

The music keeps playing:

_For once in my life, she needs me  
For once in my life_

Perfect.

_fin._


End file.
